



|4S> 



# LIBRARY OF CoKKESS. i 



i # 

*DMTED STATES OF AMERICA.* 



3 c 



E V E N - S O N G S 

OTHER POEMS. 



SARAH WARNER BROOKS 






1867 










<?- 


BOSTON 




LITTLE, 


BROWN, AND 
1868. 
V 


COMPANY 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, bj^ 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridge. 



CONTENTS. 



Even-Songs. 


Pac.k 


Prelude 


7 


" Over All, blessed forever " . 


9 


The Battle of Life .... 


II 


In the Gloaming 


14 


The Mother's Love-Song . 


17 


On the River 


. 19 


A Prayer 


21 


"To him that overcometh" 


22 


June 


26 


My Ship 


. 29 


Waiting 


31 


Uncrowned ALvrtyrs . . . . 


• 34 


Midnight 


35 


Voice of God 


• 37 


"The Reward" 


39 


The Mystic River 


. 41 


In the Coffin 


43 


>Under the Daisies 


• 45 


Idyls of the Year. 




Spring-Time . 


• 49 


Summer 


51 


The Dirge of Summer . . . . 


• 54 


Indian Summer 


57 



IV 



Co?iie?its. 



The Ever-Fair 

Frost- Work 

Lays of the War. 

To Arms 

The Uprising of the North 

Parting 

After the Battle . 

After the Retreat . 

Festal Bells . 

Liberty 

After the Election 

"Our Flag is still there!" , 
Miscellaneous. 

Ln VOCATION .,..,.. 

Aurora . . . . , 

"The Garland on the Bier" , 

Roses and Lilies 

In Memoriam . . , . 

Giving 

"He giveth His Beloved Sleep 

Forever 



59 
6i 

65 
67 
70 
72 
74 
76 
78 
82 
84 

89 
91 
95 
97 
99 

lOI 

102 
103 



§ 



a 






EVEN-SONGS. 





o 



PRELUDE 



BLITHE and gay, in budding May, 
The tinted orchard boughs among, 



With 'witching cadence manifold, 
His matin lay the robin sung. 

When June, among the roses red, 
Lay softly tranced, in dewy hours, 

Her beauty stole into his song, — 
Sweet as a love-tale told in flowers. 



The gladsome May hath tripped away ; 

The Rose hath strewed the bier of June 
An empty nest is on the bough ; 

He hears the cricket's boding tune : 



Yet, now and then, in minor key, 
But clear as purling* speech of rills, 

Old catches of the May and June, 
At eventide he softly trills. 

O ]\Iay of life — O lusty June — 

Go by ! Still blithe, serene, and stron; 

For matin time, and hour of prime, 
We give Him praise in even-song. 




^4<^^ 




"OVER ALL, BLESSED FOREVER." 

/^ NOT through seemly forms or creeds 
^^^ By man, with skilful thought designed, 
To me He comes, the Primal Good, 

The Sovereign Force, the Central Mind. 

The tidal pulse of Nature's heart, 

He buds and blooms in Summer hours ; 

He comes in Autumn's flush and fruit, 
In Winter's crown of hoary flowers. 

He floods the Morn with orient tides ; 

His golden glor^' Noon unbars ; 
In sunset's flamy car He glides ; 

He wheels through night, in pomp of stars ! 



10 Even-Songs. 

He moves along the storied past, 
A Power to will, to plan, to guide ; 

He works throughout the world to-day. 
To animate, inspire, provide. 

O Heart of love ! — to me He meets 
This fleckered life of good and ill ; 

And all its tangled paths are sweet 
With golden glimpses of His will. 

In death He comes, to bring my soul 
Through aisles of shadow, vague and dim, 

To golden stairways, bright with bliss, 
Forever winding on to Him ! 





THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

'^ I ^ IS in the balmy southern islands, 

If memory serve me aright, 
That, nerved by this crude superstition, 
The warrior sallies to fight. 

He holds, that all of the strength and valor. 
While the life-blood yet is warm, 

Goes forth from the foe that is slain in battle. 
And enters his conqueror's form : 



And the maiden, who under the palms at 
evetide 
Would boast of her lover's might, 



12 Even-Sonors. 



Exultingly counts on her tawny fingers 
The foes he hath slain in the fight. 



It is thus, O fi-iends, in that mystic combat, — 

That weary and endless strife, 
Where the soul encounters in deadly onset 

Her foes, — in the battle of life. 

O then, with the mortal ills that beset thee. 
With woes that assail thee, and smite. 

Stand bravely forth, in God's good armor. 
To the death stand thou, and fight ! 

With fierce temptations that beleaguer 

Thy towers and fortresses of strength. 

Stand up ! till, overthrown in the conflict. 
The foe, in his might, lies low at length. 

And know that from every conquered sorrow, 
From every slain besieging sin, 

Comes forth to thy door a grim ghost of valor, 
And noiselessly entereth in. 



The Battle of Life, 



13 



For thus hath it been, and shall be forever 
With each, till the conflict is past, 

And the conqueror rides through yon arch of 
triumph. 
Rides in, to gather his palms at last. 







IN THE GLOAMING. 

" And tread softly, and speak low, 
For the old year lies a-dying." 

Tennyson. 

T SIT alone in the gloaming, 

When the year's last day is done ; 

And the cares of the morn and the noontide 
Drop off with the setting sun. 

Till my soul, in the gentle evetide, 
As a flower that waits the dew, 

Upreaching, may yearn in silence, 
For the Only-Good and True. 

Old Year, by thy garment's golden fringes, 
In the red west trailing low, 



In the Gloaming. 15 

I hold thee, as Jacob the wrestHng angel, — 

bless me, or e'er thou go ! 

bless me ! for weary-hearted 

1 sit in the dusk alone: 

The past is behind me, changeless, — 
Before me, the dread unknown. 

And I know that, with iron pen, God's angel, 
Silent and sorrowing, day by day, 

Hath written me down for all the ages 

The deeds of a year that is passing away. 

1 am 'ware — or ever I turn the pages, 

For the voice within is true — 
That the leaves are stained with sins and follies, 
And good I have failed to do. 

O linger, sweet Year ! and the angel 
One lovelier page shall write : — 

'T is vain ! — the twilight deepens. 
And darkens into the night; — 



1 6 Even- Songs. 

Into the night, whose peaceful curtain 
Shall tenderly shut me in, — 

Brooding me ever, like Love Eternal, — 
The Love that outruns my sin. 

Cover the dead, O pall of purple ! 

The New-Year comes with the morn ; 
And well, if from Old-Year loss and failure 

A New- Year's strength is born. 




THE MOTHER'S LOVE -SONG. 

\T ZHEN apple orchards softly shed 
Their flakes of tinted snow, 
His even-song the robin sang, 
In the twilight, long ago ; 

And in the summer orloamincf 
My life o'erran with June : 

I wove me then a little rhyme. 
To a tender little tune. 



And beside a dainty cradle, 
To a blossom pink and white, 

I sang it at morning and noon, 
And over again at night. 



1 8 Even- Songs. 

" The rose will fade, the leaf will fall, 

The summers pass away ; 
But love is warm, when life is cold, 

And love will live for aye." 

The robin, on the apple bough, 

Trills yet a careless tune ; 
But from my heart the songs are gone, 

And from my life the June ; 

And Time, who bears upon his tide. 

Our pleasant things away, 
Hath turned thy golden locks to brown. 

While care turns mine to gray. 

Thy life is drear, and mine is cold. 

Yet, tried and true, I sing 
The same fond rhyme I wove for thee 

When Hope clasped hands with Sprin< 



ON THE RIVER. 

" There is no joy but calm." 

Tennyson. 

ROW out ; the Seekonk sleeps in wave- 

Above, the rounded moon rides clear and fair : 
June dreams, on roses pillowed, breathing 

balm ; 
Row out, and leave behind the world of care : 
There, grief may come, and fickle joy may go ; 
What boots it ? out in the silver moonlight, 

row ! 



Row out, the years have brought us change 

and ill ; 
Hearts that have loved us are grown strange 

and cold : 



20 Even- Songs. 

Some, under folded palms, are still, how still ! 
Ah woe ! the tender loving hearts of old ! 
They rest, we toil, God wills — 't is better so — 
Row out, in the haunted moonlight, row ! 

Row out, and on ; in rhythmic silence, row : 
Peace floods the tranquil air, the wave, the 

sky; 
There is no longer ruth, nor ill, nor woe, — 
Only the night, and heaven, and thou, and I : — 
No grief to come, no fickle joy to go ; 
Row on, in the restful moonlight, row. 




A PRAYER. 

" My grace is sufficient for thee." — 2 Cor. xii. 9. 

/^ "GRACE of God!" lie on my life 

As, broad and clear, with mellow sheen, 
On turbid midnight waters lie 

The kisses of Night's silver Queen ! 



O 



grace of God ! " bedew mine heart 



As Eve, from urns unseen and high. 
Besprinkles drowsy-lidded flowers, 

With Noon's fierce fever parched and dry ! 



O "grace of God!" in tongue of flame 
Leap down, and fire mine inmost soul 

And melt the ice, and burn the dross, 
And quicken and renew the whole ! 

2 



"TO HIM THAT OVERCOMETH." 

'f~\ LIFE," I said, " thou art so little 
worth, — 
Life, hedged with wrong, and dwarfed by 
care and ill, — 
'T were better to slip softly under earth 
And rest, with all thy chafing pulses still." 

Then at the door my " better angel " stood. 
In calm-browed silence, pleading down my sin 

With grieving tenderness ; till, love-subdued, 
Ashamed and sad, I bade him enter in. 



And calmly forth together went we twain 
Beneath the brooding arch of God's fair sky, 



" To him that ovcrcoineth." 23 

Through many a quiet elmen-shaded lane, 
Screened from the burnhig splendor of July. 

The sun sloped westward ; from the distant bay, 
Grateful as love, swept in the breezes cool, 

Rifling the wild-rose hedges by the way : 
Light laughing children sauntered home from 
school. 

Whistling his kine, trudged on a jocund boy ; 

Hard by, an oriole carolled loud and long ; 
And all the summer's rhythmic tide of joy 

Ran, rippling clear and silvery, through his 



And sweet as Hebe's breath was all the air 
From scented hay-ricks to the breezes flung, 

While blithe as Morn, with stalwart sinews bare. 
The sun-browned mowers raked and joked 
and suno:. 



24 Even-Songs. 

Two lovers, on a shaded slope, apart, 

Drank in delight and life, with bhssful eyes, 

Murmuring the same sweet story of the heart 
That Adam whispered Eve in Paradise. 

" O soul," then spake the angel, " look abroad ! 

Thus, in completed beauty, Earth hath stood 
Since the glad paean of the * Sons of God,' 

When first the Ever-Loving saw it ' good.' 

" Mar not His perfect plan with discontent ; 

The end lies hidden from thy vision dim ; 
Yet naught is zvholly ill that He hath sent. 

Since good and evil interchange from Him. 

^^ All life is royal largess ; in each breast 
Lies boundless power to conquer untold 
pain, ■ — 

Power to attain, through suffering, unto rest, 
And win from every loss eternal gain. 



'' lo him that overconictJir 



25 



" Go live thy life, ' whatever ill betides,' — 
Not like a way-worn pilgrim, craving alms ! 

But calm and glad, as after victory rides 
To peace a smiling conqueror, crowned with 
palms ! " 




JUNE. 



T TNNUMBERED bards with gifts of rhyme 
Have come, in adoration sweet, 
As " magi " of that " orient dime," 
To lay their offerings at thy feet. 



And shall / praise thee in the song 
That falters ever on my tongue ; 

Stayed by a life of loss and wrong, 
Its sweetest idyls all unsung ? 



Yet hear me ! from these care-sown ways 
I bless thee, June, for nights of calm, - 



JiLiie. 27 

For glorious, rose-crowned halcyon days, 
When every breath of life is balm ! 

I bless thee for the countless flowers 
That in thy sunny smiles are born : 

For birds, that through the dewy hours 
Pipe to the drowsy lids of Morn ; 

For raptures vague and wild, yet sweet 

As brier-roses after rain, — 
Dead hopes, that cast the winding-sheet. 

And blossom into life again. 

In bosky lanes, a vagrant child. 

Crowned month of all the leafy time : 

My apron filled with blossoms wild, 
I praised thee first, in artless rhyme. 

My morn hath melted into noon ; 

My shadow leaneth to the west : 
If tears have clouded many a June, 

I will not murqiur, — God zvills best. 



28 Even- Songs. 

Still singing thee, I fondly pray, — 

When weary feet to rest have passed, — 

White roses on my bier to lay. 

Come thou, my first love, and my last ! 




MY SHIP. 

/^~~^OME hither! bold mariner, worn and 
gray, 
Whose keel hath ploughed through many a sea, 
And give me news of that laggard ship, — 
The ship that is coming in for me ! 

You should know her, — the shapeliest craft 
That ever danced out on the waters blue ! 

And her captain is a hero bold, 
And fifty loyal tars her crew ! 



Her cargo, — ah, never ! no, never before 
Set forth in her pride, upon any sea, 

Such a golden-freighted argosy 

v\s the ship that is coming in for me ! 



30 Even-Songs. 

I think, perchance, she is nearing land ; 

For, now and then, when the days are 
clear, 
And the wind blows in from the haunted seas, 

The boom of her signal-guns I hear. 

I was but a little maid of ten, 

Pulling buttercups, out on the lea. 

When first she cleared from the Golden Isles, - 
The ship that is coming in for me. 

Ah ! that was a long, long time ago ! 

When the rose on my cheek was round 
and fair ; 
And now, there is many and many a thread 

Of silver tangled in my hair. 

And it may be — or ever she come to port — 
I shall set forth on the unknown sea. 

And come to a land of goodlier things 
Than ever " my ship " could bring to me ! 








WAITING 



"'nnHOUGH Nature, since old time began, 
Had wrought, through cycles, to this 
end, 
Well worth the work it were," I said, 

"To shape this perfect man! — my friend." 



As vesture whitening in the sun. 

My soul grew pure beneath his smile ; 

The hand his clean white hand had clasped 
I could not lend to wrong or guile ! 



All flowery fields of thought I ranged 
To cull him blossoms rare and sweet : 

I showered the riches of my life 
In golden largess at his feet ! 



32 Even- Songs. 

It dawned — O God! that bitter day! 

Fair morn and noon, eve crimson flushed ! 
And all my golden wealth of love 

Lay trampled in the soiling dust ! 

To sleep, to dream, — ah woe, — to zvake ! 

They said the summer days were fair ; 
That June danced gayly o'er the hills. 

With matchless roses in her hair. 

I know not ; in my shivering heart 

The weary winter had no end ; 
And still I i^rayed : " Take thou my life, 

Dear God ! or give me back my friend ! " 

Ah frantic prayer ! ah sinking soul ! 

On stormy waves of passion tossed ! 
God sits in heaven ! and comfortless, 

On earth, no " Rachel " wails " her lost." 

The gracious seasons come and go ; 
Wild blossoms sweeten all the dells ; 



Fruit rounds and ripens in the sun, — 
The glad bee stores her golden cells. 

And God is God; the Ever-Good, — 

I wait, I trust Him to the e/id ; 
And when His time is fully ripe, 

The spheres shall chime, " Behold thy friend ! " 





-/■* .<^- 



'SW JX*€C<^UW'^^>^S ^V\^ ^^^/^^^tm 




UNCROWNED MARTYRS. 



T T IGH heaven is thronged with martyrs, 

who have trod 
Alone, through unseen paths of anguish, up 

to God! 
The world knows them not ; for silently they 

passed 
Through the slow fires of torture, till at last 
They won immortal palms, and took their place 
Among the glorified, who see Him " face to 

face." 
Fame counts /^^r martyrs : unto t/iej/i 't was given 
In flamy chariots to ride grandly into heaven ! 
Praise God for them, — the kingly, the re- 
nowned ! 
Yet higher praise for t/iese, — who dared, and 
died uncrowned ! 



MIDNIGHT. 

T FAINT, I fail ! Sustain me, " holy Night " 

In thy serene and steadfast eyes 
Let me behold the eternal friendliness 
That fickle human love denies. 

Still Night ! along thy dreamy corridors 
No restless jarring footstep falls ; 

Calm as the silent " half-hour " * in high heaven 
Are thy divine sequestered halls. 



Worlds upon worlds wheel grandly o'er my head 
Unsandalled,t awed, before God's face ; 

And dizzied with immensity, I float, 
An atom on this sea of space ! 



* Rev. vi 



t Exodus iii. 5. 



36 Even- Songs. 

While, soft as wavelets of immortal peace, 
Whose kisses lave the shores of light, 

Thus, to my drooping lifelong weariness, 
Chanteth the calm consoling Night : 

*' Faint not ; all chance is big with providence 
All mortal change with good is rife ; 

And death itself, a noontide slumber 
In the eternal day of life ! " 











VOICE OF GOD. 

"And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the 
cool of the day." — Genesis iii. 8. 

/^~A THRILL the silence, voice of God! 

We tread the wine-press of our Hfe alone ; 
Man hath not fathomed man's immortal needs ; 
And evermore we miss the guidant mono- 
tone,* 
Amid the clamorous " Babel " of the creeds. 

" Speak, Lord ! " we listen, in no costly fane, 
Where Zeal with ritual pomp keeps holy-day ; 
Where haughty " Dives " flaunts in purple 
shame. 
Till crumb-fed " Lazarus " scarce may dare 
to pray. 
Turn Thou the " flaming " guardant " sword " 



away ! 



* I Kings xix. 12. 

3 



38 



Even- S Oil o^s. 



Restore to man lost Eden's lovely shade ! 

Still, in the garden, Lord, at shut of day, 
We wait thee, " naked, shamed," yet not 
^'afraid," 




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"THE REWARD." 

"And this shall be the reward : that the ideal 

Shall be real to thee." 

Emerson. 

T N some radiant cycle, beloved, I dream, — 
Ere this mortal " forgetting," we surely have 
met ; 
And my Lethe, Fate spilt, at life's portal, I 
deem, 
That having foregone thee, I might not for- 
get. 



God knoweth, these arms are too mean to en- 
fold thee, 
For rarer than shape of immortal thou art ; 
Yet, at last, I must have thee, — must have 
thee and hold thee. 
And make me a pillow of rest on thine heart. 



40 



Even- Songs. 



And patience unfailing is wrought in my soul : 

I toil in the present, resign to the past ; 
For I know that if palm-crowned I stand at 
the goal, 
I shall win thee, and thou wilt be real, at 
last I 





THE MYSTIC RIVER. 

His last words were : " Let us pass over the river, and rest under the 
shade of the trees." 

/^\ WALK the waste with patient tread, 

And bear thy cross w^ith singing, 
For nearer yet the restful shore 

Each weary, weary step is bringing. 
A Httle while, the pangs, the fears, 

And then — the bliss forever ! 
Where dawns the day that brings no tears, 

Over, over, " over the river." 



Bear on ! and smile away the woes 
That can but harm a little longer ; 

Bear bravely on ! and bless the throes, 
If so the tortured soul grow stronger. 



42 



Eveii-Sonzs. 



The weary thorn may goad thy breast, 
Yet waves the " heahng tree " forever, 

Where Hfe is nevermore unrest, 
Over, over, " over the river." 




IN THE COFFIN. 

\ 1 T'EARY old feet, that, bleeding and torn. 
Over the highways and byways have trod ; 
The journey is ended, the long march is done : 
Rest from your wayfaring, under the sod ! 

Withered old hands, that, hardened by toil, 
Brown as the leaf in November have grown. 

Rest ye now, palm-crossed ; for under the soil 
The digiiino: and delving of life are unknown. 



Weary old heart, — for fourscore long years 
Ticking life's moments of pleasure and pain, — 

Throbbing right on, through the smiles and the 
tears ! — 
Rest thee ! no life-beat shall vex thee again ! 



44 



Eveii-Sonzs. 



Fretted old life, with sore burdens oppressed, — 
Unnumbered by Him not a " sparrow may 
fall," — 
In His love, He hath gathered thee home to 
His breast, 
To refresh and renew thee, — the good "All- 
in-All." 














UNDER THE DAISIES. 

" Her sins, which were many, are foi^given, for she loved much." — Luke 
vii. 47. 

/^~\ GENTLE friends, when life's unrest 

With me forevermore is passed ; 
And, tired hands folded on my breast. 

Ye lay me low, in peace at last ; 
Deal gently, gently, with my name ! 

Scourge all my faults with tender touch ; 
And say, when careless tongue shall blame, 

" Speak low ! t/iis sinner loved much." 

She loved — light lips bear witness true — 
Through sin, and shame, and broken trust : 

Ah, woe is me ! — ye never knew 
The costly pearl ye trod in dust ! 



46 



Even-Sonors. 



She loved — O tried and faithful tell ! — 
When sad-eyed to her grave ye come ; 

Alas ! ye never knew how well ; 
For yearning tenderness is dumb / 




IDYLS OF THE YEAR. 





I. 

SPRING-TIME. 

A H ! who is not glad in the spring-time, 
When earth is a-throb with unrest, — 
FeeHng the beautiful unborn Summer 
Leap, under her bare brown breast ? 

Come, dainty king-cups, and dot the meadows, 

In yellow kirtles bedight ; 
Burst, rounded buds, in the hawthorn hedges, 
And blossom in pink and white ! 



The robin sits, hard by his cradle, 
Daintily wickered, I ween ; 

And trills long rollicking roundelays. 
With snatches of plaint between ! 



50 Idyls of the Year. 

In silvery zigzag through the covvsUps, 
Like school-weary urchins set free, 

The merry rills, with laughing prattle, 
Run home to the mother Sea. 

Ah, there winters no heart in the wide world 
But leaps to the blessed Spring ! 

For hope will come with the robhiSy 
To build in the soul, and sing. 




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II 



SUM M E R . 

'^ I ^HE Sea laughs cheerily up to the Sky, 
And the Sky laughs down to the Sea ; 
The Brooks run, laughing low, through the 
meadows ; 
And Buttercups laugh all over the lea ! 
"She is coming!" the Oriole sings in the lin- 
den, — 
" Was ever, was ever, a maiden so fair ? " 
She sleeps upon beds of Valley-lilies ; 
And tangles their odor in her hair. 



The Sweetbrier, under the rainbow, kissed her ; 
And " sweets " hath he " given to the 
sweet." 



52 Idyls of the Year. 

The Clover breathes mto the folds of her 
garments, 
As she skims the meadows, with glancing 
feet. 
The Syringa sickens with " love and longing," 
And faint is the Jonquil cold, for her 
charms : 
But the Rose-buds, the Rose-buds — red, white, 
and yellow — 
They will blossom, and die of love, in her 
arms ! 

Ah ! rarest thickets of pink Azalia 

In the fragrant wild-wood will she set : 
She will border the gardens with Pinks and 
Gillies, 

And sweeten the beds of Mignonette. 
The Morning-glory will hide, as she passes. 

Under the golden kirtle of Noon ; 
But Blue-bells with White-bells all day will 
swing. 

While the Sweet-pea daintily dances in tune. 



Slimmer. 5 3 

The Sunflower shall turn on his stem, to greet 
her ; 

While plebeian Hollyhocks, bold and bright, 
Peer over the heads of Candytuft, 

And Petunias, thronging, in purple and 
white. 
Stiff-necked old Zinnia will not stir 

One ancient petal of her flower ; 
But Lady Larkspur will nod and nod, 

While motley Four-o'clock tells the hour. 

Verbenas, in bright little groups, will gather, 

With high-born Heliotropes, — musky and 
sweet, — 
And Geraniums pied, and pink, and scarlet, 

Will cluster gayly around her feet, 
And, fairer than any painted angel. 

In the golden sunlight will she stand, 
Bearing Annunciation-lilies 

By scores, in her dainty hand. 
4 






^^/^ki£.^^ 




III. 

THE DIRGE OF SUMMER. 

/^^VER the hills the brown-eyed Autumn 

Hath come, in her crimson snood ; 
Stark dead lieth the blue-eyed Summer, — 
Covered with leaves, like " the babes in 
the wood." 
Two months agone, in her bright green kirtle, 

Walked the maiden, lusty and fair. 
With knots of the oleander on her bosom, 
And buds of the tuberose in her hair. 

Gayly she chatted with the reapers. 

Rustling the gold of her yellow sheaves ; 



TJie Dirge of Siunmcr. 55 

Lightsomely running her airy fingers 
Over her harp, full-strung with leaves. 

She trimmed her mantle with silken tassels, 
Pulled from the juicy ears of corn ; 

The Cricket was boding her doom ; but lightly 
Laughed she the pensive prophet to scorn. 

At last, as she dreamed in the noiseless star- 
light, 

Or ever the Night one tear had wept, 
The Hoar-Frost came, in his seed-pearl mantle, 

To kiss her eyelids while she slept. 
Ah me ! it was ill of the crusty Hoar-Frost ! 

But he touched her on lip and cheek. 
And chilled her blue veins with Arctic kisses ; 

And never a word did he speak. 

Then danced she no more on the breezy hill- 
tops. 

But, faint and wan, in the valleys low 
She lingered, to fringe the lids of the gentian, 

And deepen the aster's purple glow. 



. 56 



Idyls of the Year. 



She saw, through the rustling wood, fair Au- 
tumn 

Come up in her crimson pride ; 
And then, on her couch of golden-rod 

Composing her lovely limbs, — she died. 




IV. 

INDIAN SUMMER. 

T^O dance on her grave, comes an Indian 
maiden, 

With tufts of the oriole in her hair ; 
A scarlet necklace, of seeded berries, 

Droops over her bosom, tawny and bare. 
A mantle of mist from her rounded shoulders 

Is folded away in gauzy curls : 
By the winking starlight, in dewy meadows, 

She beadeth her moccasins with pearls. 



The red man, ambushed in sleepy valleys, - 
Shapely as Venus from the foam, — 

Beheld her rise from a purple mist-wreath ; 
And bore her in triumph home. 



58 Idyls of the Year. 

Day after day, she tended the hunters, — 
Scouring the forests and streams, — 

Cloud-like and fair as the phantom maiden 
A poet may kiss in his dreams. 

There is never a fire in the Indian's wigwam ; 

Nor smoke from his calumet curled ; 
And noiselessly as a dream at sunrise, 

He is passing on — from the world. 
Yet ever still, when the maple forest 

Hath showered its crimson rain, 
The phantom maid, from the misty valleys, 

Comes back to her haunts again. 

In the calm red sunrise she braids her tresses, — 

Glassed in a mirror of molten streams ; 
She groups the sunset clouds for the painter. 

And wraps the poet in honey-dreams. 
The old man leans on his staff to bless her ; 

The children nod to her at their play ; 
And scores upon scores of enamored lovers 

Adore her and woo her to stay. 









N 



V. 
THE EVER- FAIR 



OW shame on the graceless (fhurl ! dear 



Nature, 

Who gives thee a shrug or a frown ; 
Who passes thee by in thy plain white kirtle, 

Or flouts thee in russet gown ! 
For him, may relentless March uncover 

No crocus from under the snow ; 
Nor April, with violet breath, discover 

One bank where her darlings blow. 

May never thy winsome May regale him 

With her lilac-scented morns ; 
And if June shall toss him a handful of roses, 

Let her bleed him faint with thorns. 



6o 



Idyls of the Year. 



For him, no lily o'er-brim her chalice 

With odors, in warm July. 
May the red sun leer on his fields in August, 

Till grass and grain shall sicken and die. 
May never one scarlet gem of September 

Into his casket of life be lost ,' 
And smite him blind while tlie trees in Oc- 
tober 

Are holding their fiery Pentecost. 




VI. 



FROST-WORK 



N 



OT a green leaf hangs in the dun cold 



wood, 

Not a wild-flower blows on the lea ; 
But the Frost hath come, that craftsman dumb, 

And wrought them, fair as fair can be ! 
No blade of furze on the wide lea 

But weareth a string of pearls, — 
Rarer than any gentle lady 

May braid in her sunny curls. 



O fairer than famed Aladdin's garden — 

By affluent Genii bedight — 
The dream-like aisles of this jewelled forest 

Stand out in the clear moonlifrht. 



62 Idyls of the Year. 

No ermined queen on her regal forehead 

Hath ever such diamonds wore 
As the sharp wind showers from loaded branches 

Over this fretted silver floor. 

Down in the glade are fairy grottos, 

Stuccoed with crystals, crisp and white, 
Festooned with wreaths of silver arabesque, 

Looped with opals of changeful light. 
The meadow is sprinkled over with sparklets ; 

As Night, at the Day-god's shout, 
Unbraiding the gems from her nebulous tresses, 

Had scattered them idly about. 
Ah, fine would it be to hold the spell 

The fairy brewed in a lily-chalice. 
And enchant with that " dream " of an '* hun- 
dred years," 

The sheen of this frost-work palace ! 



LAYS OF THE WAR. 



".Diilce et decorum est pro patria mori." 




€ 




I. 



TO ARMS. 



/^~\N, brothers, on ! for the flag that is peer- 
less, 
Striped from the rainbow, and starred from 
the sky, — 
On now with sturdy step, dauntless and 

fearless, — 
On, to unfurl it in triumph, or die ! 
Honored in all the lands, 
Now shall unholy hands 
Trail it, defiled and despised, in the dust ? 
Down with the "traitors rag"! 
Up with the starry flag! 
Arm now for Liberty ! — God for the just ! 



66 Lays of the War. 

Boldly at Sumter have thundered their cannon ; 

Bravely the guns of our hero replied ! 
On ! for the ashes that slumber at Vernon ; 
On, for the city whose name is our pride ! 

Woe, when our country's guns 

Sweep down her bastard sons ! 
Woe, for her " chivalry's " flower in the dust ! — 

Low he the '' traitor's rag " ! 

Free float the starry flag ! 
Arm now for Liberty ! — " God for the just ! " 

On with a prayer ! — there is peril before us ; 
On in the face of death ! — fearless and 
proud ! 
Life, with the banner our fathers waved o'er us, — 
Death, with its crimson-dyed folds for a shroud. 
Now, for dear " fatherland " 
Strike with true heart and hand ! 
Loyal our venture and heavenward our trust. 
Down with the " traitor's rag " ! 
Up with the starry flag ! 
Strike now for Liberty! — "God for the just." 










II. 

THE UPRISING OF THE NORTH. 

T IKE a surging ocean, wave on wave, 

Sweep onward the tried, the true, and 
the brave. 
The traitor hath heard the rhythmical clang 

Of swords, unsheathed for the nation's weal ; 

And bolder and fiercer his menace hath rang — 

For he loves not the flash of loyal steel ; — 

And " Plymouth " and " Bunker Hill " go 

forth. 
With a sturdy step from ''the loyal North!" 

The mother stands proudly beside her hearth ; 
And, with mightier throes than gave him 
birth. 



68 Lays of the War. 

She buckles the sword on her soldier son. 

The bride, with a martyr's pang in her kiss, 
When her lover girds his armor on, 

Uprises, and empties her arms of bliss ! 
So Sparta rekindles, when God leads forth 
For the spangled flag " the loyal North ! " 

The partisan turns from unholy strife 
At his country's feet to lay his life ; 

And, free and fast as the tumbling rills. 

In the sweet spring-tide from her mountains 
rolled, 

The affluent rain from their teeming tills. 
In her fostering lap, a shower of gold. 

Thus, wealthy, and brave, and strong, goes forth 

For " God, and the right," " the loyal North." 

The groaning ages have waited long ; 

The weak writhe under the heel of the 
strong. 
The tree that burgeoned through blood and tears 

In our crimsoned soil is rooted fast : 



The Uprising of the NortJi. 



69 • 



With God " as a day " is " a thousand years," 
And the soul shall reclaim her birthright at 
last. 
A brave clang for the centuries now goes forth 
From the mailed heel of " the loyal North." 





III. 

PARTING. 

" And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts." 

Byron. 

TF God should say, "No more be light!" 
Should put the stars out, one by one ; 
Should blot the horned moon from Night 
And sweep from Day's fair brow the sun ; 

So He but left me this one spark, — 
The gracious love-light in thine eye, — 

My lamp, to crimson all the dark, 

I should not miss them from my sky. 



Yet hear me, sweet ! — I say, " Depart ! " 
And God knows best if, far and fast, 



Partine', 



I drown all joy for one poor heart, 
In the dull " dead sea " of the past 



Go ! — in death's face, I dare say go ! 

Brave life, true love, are not in vain. 
And, trusting God's dear love, I know 

Ours blossoms in the skies ao-ain. 










i V'^s/^-^'-^ 






IV 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 



F 



AIR " Rhoda," sit lorn, looking out o'er 
the sea ; 

Let the rain of thy sorrow fall fast on the 
wave ; 
The summers shall quicken to beauty the lea, 
But never, ah never ! earth yield thee thy 
brave. 



Lorn Island, lean calmly on ocean's fair breast 
They are calm, with a peace that no mortal 
hath known ; 
Nor discord abideth, nor carking unrest, 

In that city of gladness whose hills they 
have won. 



After the Battle. 73 

Sit proudly, queen lady, look forth o'er the wave : 

(O mother! O wife! may it temper thy woe!) 

The red stain on thy robe is the blood of the 

brave ! 

They died in the Spartan w^ay, — " face to the 

foe." 

Brave " Rhoda," look steadfastly out o'er the sea : 
Who hopeth may win : be nor vaunting nor 
loud : 
Wait ! — after the midnight the dawning must 
be ; 
And the rainbow is born of the gloom in 
the cloud. 

Nor faint yet, nor fail, — for brave work must 

be done ! 

Arm ! arm thy bold sons ! bid them forth 

to the fight, * 

Till the last foe be conquered, the last battle won. 

And — if need be — the last hero dies for 

the risfht. 







AFTER THE RETREAT, 

" Rally round the flag, boys ! " 

1\ /r EN, whose sires for freedom bled, — ■ 
Sires great Washington hath led : — 
Onward now, with rhythmic tread ! 

On, to victory ! 
See, proud England, drunk with power, 
Bodes our nation's mortal hour: 
See your angry goddess lower, — 
Fair-browed Liberty ! 

Who w^ould be a Northern slave, 

Shackled by yon perjured knave ! 
Better, calm in glory's grave, 
Rest, from victory ! 



After the Retreat. 75 

For the land our fathers trod, 
For our brave beneath the sod, 
For the eternal truths of God, 
Onward ! win or die ! 

Now, for Victory's waiting charms, 
Dare the conflict's dire alarms ! 
Wipe the stain from Freedom's arms ; 

Win ! for liberty ! 
Earth, behold not our defeat ; 
Heaven, forsake us in retreat ; 
Palsied now be flying feet ! 

Death or victory ! 








VI. 
FESTAL BELLS. 

July 4, 1S63. 

T IFT high the morning, silver bells ! this 
day 
Was wrousfht, throus-h blood and toil, in 
travail past. 
Ring ! ring ! the shadows slowly creep away ; 
And Liberty's fair morning dawns at last ! 



Yet, festal bells, ring softly now, and slow ; 

For out on yonder arid field of strife, 
Morn, weeping, marks, with swift and stanch- 
less flow. 

The heart-tide w^ell from many a costly life ; 



Festal Bells. yy 

Sees slowly filming now to dreamless rest, 
Eyes dewy-dark with hope, and joy, and 
trust, — 

Dear locks, that dainty-fingered Love caressed, 
Matted and torn, and trampled in the dust ! 

Ring on, bells, bells ! since stars together sung 
Glad matins, on Creation's natal day, 

Never such broad eternal issues hung 

For God's fair earth, upon the doubtful fray ! 

To lose is to go back, in brazen shame. 
To old-time twilight drear and dim; — 

To forge anew, in Liberty's sweet name. 

Fetters for white-robed Freedom's every limb ! 

To wiji is to wash white from loathful stain 
The seemly vesture of a peerless Land ; 

And speed her, purged, renewed, and consecrate 
again, 
Adown the ripening ages, "golden-grand!" 



T 



VII. 

LIBERTY. 

HE startled kings beheld her, saintly pure 
and sweet, 

Like the glad star of morning, on the old 
world rise, 
And rudely scourged her thence, on weary 
bleeding feet, 
Quailing beneath the splendor of her stead- 
fast eyes. 



Then dwelt she in our glory-girdled clime, and 
free, 
Went forth, with prairie-blossoms tangled in 
her hair : 



Liberty. 79 

Through forests roved, — heard the old anthem 
of the sea, 
And breathed new vigor from the unattainted 
air, — 



Till lustful Gain turned blindly from her spot- 
less charms, 
And mocked her with the outcries of a fet- 
tered race ; 
And, ruthless, tore her plighted lovers from her 
arms, 
And, in the world's broad sunlight, shamed 
her to her face. 

Yet grand and glorious still, o'er Northern hills 
she roams ; 
Sages, enamored, worship yet her lovely eyes : 
For Jier brave women quench the light of 
hearth and home ; 
For Jicr the patriot toils, for her the hero 
dies ! 



8o Lays of the War. 

Youth feels her peerless beauty, haunting all 
his dreams ; 
Fair is the flower-sown earth ! and glad the 
sunny sky ! 
And Hfe is sweet ! Yet grand and beautiful it 
seems 
To him, for her sweet sake, on gory fields to 
die, 

O "chiefest of ten thousand"! fair, and unde- 
, filed! 
Hear us ! we '' bring no vain oblation " to thy 
shrine. 
For thee the costly blood of lover, sire, and 
child 
Flows red and royally, and free as festal wine ! 

To thee, in bloody throes, our olden vows were 
given ; 
And North and South, in silken surges broad 
unfurled, 



L iberty. 8 1 

Thine ensign, waving free in the fair Hght of 
heaven, 
Shall fleck with crimson splendor all the 
rounded world ! 






VIII. 

AFTER THE ELECTION. 

XT EW England, New England ! ay, true yet 
as steel, — 
As the blades of her heroes, forever is she ! 
Our mother, who hums to the whirring of wheel. 
And laves her fair feet in the foam of the 
sea. 



And the sons she hath hymned to in cloisters 
of pine. 
Or reared in her mountain holds, sturdy and 
brave ; 
The children she feeds on her corn and her 
wine, 
Or broods on her crags, by the slow-sing- 
ing wave ; 



After the Election. %i 

Ah, think you tJiey ever shall soil her white 
fame, 
And graceless consign her to infamy lorn ; 
That traitors exultant may gloat on her shame, 
And "nations" behold her, "a hissing and 
scorn " ? 

Brave boys, by your camp-fires, she greets you 
anew ; 
The sleek serpent, though " never so wisely " 
he " charm " ; — 
Since the children are dauntless, the mother 
is true. 
Henceforth shall be fangless and powerless 
to harm. 

New England, New England ! ay, truer than 

steel ; - 

And sound to the core, yet, bold rebels, is she : 

Our mother, who hums to the whirring of wheel. 

And dips her white feet in the fringe of the 

sea ! 



IX. 

"OUR FLAG IS STILL THERE!'' 

\X /"AVE on, fair flag ! o'er mountains high, 
That cleave the sky, and lakes that lie, 
With anchored isles, in silver calm : 

O'er sounding seas, and flowery leas. 
O'er forests green as Eden's palm. 

Wave on, and guard our Liberty ! 



Wave on ! and guard our storied land ; 

Where calm and grand, God's heroes stand, 
Niched high in Fame's eternal walls. 

Nor dastard hand, with treason's brand, 
Deflower our glory-garnished halls. 
Wave on, and guard our Liberty ! 



^'Oitr Flag is still there!'' 85 

Wave on ! and guard that holy shrine 
Where 'neath the sod, by pilgrim trod, 

Lies manhood's flower, — (earth bore but one !) 
Forever wave o'er Vernon's grave, 

And shelter glory's sleeping son ! 

Wave on, and guard our Liberty. 

Wave on ! beneath thy folds Jie fell. 

Whose steadfast soul won Freedom's goal, 

And sowed the land with peace at last. 
With crown and palm, to inmost calm, 

Our Liberty's high-priest hath passed. 
Wave on, and guard that Liberty. 

Wave on ! and set thy stars anew 

In heaven's own blue ; for, warm and true, 
A regal tide, from loyal veins. 

With liberal flow, hath trailed thy snow 
For aye, with glory's crimson stains ! 
Wave on and guard our Liberty. 
6 



MISCELLANEOUS 









INVOCATION. 

/^~^OME, winsome, " flowery-kirtled " June! 

With rose-tippecl fingers, dropping balm, 
From sleepy lotus-flowers at noon 
Distilled in some lost isle of calm. 



The happy wait thee : — gayly come ! 

Trip lightly down the laughing hours ! 
Gild with new sunshine heart and home, 

And garland life with festal flowers. 



Come, trailing orchard blooms, and bring 

Soft airs, where pain's low couch is pressed : 

Come, rustling through young leaves, and sing 
Care's fever-brood to dreamless rest. 



90 Miscellaneous. 

On Sabbath morns, with beckoning smiles, 
Come kindhest to the poor man's door ; 

And lead him forth, through flowery aisles, 
In God's fair temple to adore. 

Bound through the meadows, fleet and light ; 

Lure children forth, with gamesome wiles ; 
Toss to them Guelder-roses white ; 

Shower buttercups, — God's wayside smiles. 

Through roses glide to silvered Age, 
Youth's sweet nepenthe to restore ; 

Turn backward to life's opening page. 

And bring its hopes and dreams once more. 

Step lightly ! our beloved sleep ! 

With footfall soft as vernal showers. 
Where faith and love dear vigils keep, 

Come, kissing the cold sod to flowers ! 




i?^^^f^$^u 



T 



AURORA. 

HE sun had lain down in the arms o' the 

twiHght, 

With his fiery cheek on her breast ; 
She had covered his locks with her kirtle of 

crimson ; 
And sung him serenely to rest. 

And royally Night came up in her splendor, — 
As the steeds of the day went down, — 

Came up in her sables, ablaze, with the jewels 
That burn in her marvellous crown. 

Then, warm as a smile in the eyes of a lover, 
Aurora looked forth from the North 



92 jMiscellaneoiis. 

To startle the Night ; — as, resplendent, from 
ocean 
Came Venus, new-born of the froth. 

And softly, as blossoms their petals uncover. 
As poets weave for us their rhymes, 

She stole throuo'h the stars, to the heart of 
the zenith, — 
A red rose, that blushes and climbs. 

Till, peerless and proud, on the throne of the 
Midnight, 
She flaunted abroad in the sky 
Her mantle, that fairies had woven of moon- 
beams, 
And dipt in the rainbow to dye. 
While, down by the golden-latched gate of the 
Morning, 
Her maidens, a bevy in white. 
Had circled, to tread a gay round in the welkin, 
Like elves, in the greenwood at night. 



Aurora. 93 

And warmer and broader she kindled in splendor, 
Till, like banners triumphant, unfurled, 

The glances of beauty, from under her eye- 
lids, 
Shot down to the rim of the world ! 

" Unto what," then I said, " shall I liken this 
glory ; 
What splendor, on land or on sea ? " 
And my soul, in the silence uncovered and mur- 
mured, 
" O God ! it is like unto thee ! " 

At the zenith of being, serenely supernal, 
Thou sittest, enthroned and sublime ; 

And the light floateth off from the folds of 
thy garments 
To verges of space and of time ! 

And none, to the outermost bounds of creation, 
Bereft or benisfhted shall be ; 



94 Miscellaneous. 

Since, fainter or brighter, all souls are illu- 
mined 
With rays that are kindled in Thee. 

The Seraphim worship and burn in the crim- 
son ; 

The saintly ones bathe in the gold ; 
The poet and seer float warm in the purple ; 

And the white, shall the outmost enfold. 

Thus, forth to the highest, and down to the 
lowest. 

Unstinted, unmeted, light streams ! 
The martyr receives it, and dieth in rapture ; 

The infant, and smileth in dreams ! 





"THE GARLAND ON THE BIER." 

/^~^OME sadly from the sun-warm South, fair 
Spring ; 
Entwine the cypress with thy wreath of 
bloom ; 
Come sadly up, and silently, and bring 

Thy fairest chaplet for a maiden's tomb ! 
Bring thou the crocus, — gladsome as her 

smile ; 
Her flower, the hyacinth, with graceful bell ; 
The spotless snow-drop, — she was free from 
guile ; 
The faithful violet ; — we loved her well. 

And, pensive, linger in the woodland gray, 
To woo the Arbutus in her leaf-lorn bowers ; 



96 Miscellaneous. 



For there, no more her airy steps shall stray ; 
'ell she 
flowers 



And well she loved its clustering rose-tinged 



Come up, fair Spring ! with light and hope and 
bloom ; 
Kiss thou to beauty all the cold brown 
dells! 
Where falls no shadow from the darksome 
tomb. 
She smiles, wreathed with unfading Aspho- 
dels. 



^. 




ROSES AND LILIES. 

"'rr\ IS well," said the Rose, — '"t is well to 
' ^ be fair!" 

And she thrilled with joy, on her graceful 
stem, 
While the Sunbeams wooed her with kisses 
rare, 
Filching Night's pearls from her diadem. 



" It is well," said the Lily, " to be pure : 

Prythee, good Zephyrus, lend me thy plume ! 

Yon toying butterfly left — I am sure — 
The dust, from his wing, on my snowy 
bloom." 



98 ■ Miscellaneous. 

''T is well to be fair," said the maiden, "I 
ween ; 

Twin sisters am I to the royal Rose ; 
Thus, hold I the charm-lamp of Aladeen, — 

All-potent, the treasures of love to unclose." 

" 'T is well to be pure," said the maiden, " as 
snow ; 

God grant me the Lily's garb to wear ! 
Who is beautiful praiseth His skill, I know ; 

Who serveth His will, shall be pure as fairy 




IN MEM OR I AM. 

Rev. F. C. Woodvvorth. — Died January 5, 1859. 

T)ALMS for another victor, at the goal! 

Praise for another throbbing heart, at rest ! 
Dear God, take to thine heaven another soul ! 
Kind Earth, another tired one to thy breast. 

Fair winsome June, step softly o'er the mould ; 

Untwine the rose-buds from thy sunny hair, 
And fling them in the dust ; for, pale and cold. 

In the lone dark, thy lover slumbers there ! 



Blithe birds, when Dawn comes whispering 
through the wold. 
Sing low, beside love-cradles in the trees : . 



lOO Miscellaneous. 

Once, to your sunrise songs, his tuneful soul 
Thrilled, like the wind-harp to the wandering 
breeze. 

Light-hearted children, on the daisied slopes, 
Pause tenderly an^id your mirth ! and send 

One thought, where, in the noonday of his 
hopes 
He lieth low, your teacher and your friend ! 




GIVING. 

T S the full moon chary of the kisses 

She rains all night, on the cold wide sea? 
Then am / frugal, beloved, beloved ! 
Of the love wherewith I love thee. 

Is the Spring a churl, when she sprinkles and 
sprinkles 

With king-cups golden, the lap o' the lea } 
Then am / miserly, O beloved ! 

Of the love wherewith I love thee. 



O love, O love ! when my heart is silent ; 

When my lips are dumb as dumb can be ; 
Give thou a tear to her whose largess 

Was the wealth of a lifetime showered on 
thee ! 
7 



*'HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 

Rev. F. Waylaxd. — Died September, 1865. 

TTLOW softly, river of my love ; 

Complaining flow, to clasp the sea : 
Led now by gentler streams above, 
No more he pensive strays by thee. 

Tall pines that fringe the balmy shore 
Sing mournful as the murmuring wave ; 

D.'oop, autumn groves ! unfurl no more 
Your crimson banners o'er his grave. 



O spotless spirit, v^oid of guile ! 

O warm of heart and sasfe of head ! 
Fair rounded life, in Autumn's smile. 

Serenely ripe, we mourn thee fled ! 






"1k)P«^..} ^ 






f^s*i^f«l 



FOREVER. 

T7OREVER ! O fo^rvcr must it be ? 

Hath the wide heaven no golden floor 
Where I may tread serene with thee, 
When this long agony is o'er ? 

Forever ? idle word, and vain ! 

On some eternal mount of bliss 
These arms shall clasp thee yet again, — 

These lips shall take thy greeting kiss. 



I near the tide-gate in Time's sea : 
My life — a billow on its breast — 

Is surely rolling on to thee. 

To break upon that shore of rest. 



University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co.. 
Cambridge. 



